


Forgiving

by squit (orphan_account)



Series: Ambient [6]
Category: God's Own Country (2017)
Genre: M/M, Scotland, Soup, Trees, may 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21984187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/squit
Summary: Johnny and Gheorghe under a tree.(This takes place during the movie; shortly after the hug, and before the bus ride home.)
Relationships: Gheorghe Ionescu/Johnny Saxby
Series: Ambient [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1513484
Comments: 5
Kudos: 116





	Forgiving

“I cannot leave right now. Will you wait?” Gheorghe asks. His lips by Johnny’s ear. 

Johnny nods, loosening his embrace. He gets his bag and follows Gheorghe.

****

Johnny stands outside the trailer, hands in his pockets. Inside, Gheorghe is moving around and talking to someone. Their conversation is faintly audible from a window that's been left ajar. 

Gheorghe emerges with a plastic bag loaded with food and a bottle of water in his arms. He hands the latter to Johnny, who immediately unscrews the bottle and drinks thirstily, downing half of it in one go.

Gheorghe leads him around the back, jumping over a bent section of fence to a narrow strip of woodland. They follow a narrow well-used trail, previous travellers having tamped down the soil and cleared any snagging branches and brambles. 

After a sharp turn, they come upon a small clearing sheltered by oak and ash, the leaves and flowers on both trees shades of tender, milky green. There’s a wedge of folded canvas propped against an exposed root. Empty crisp packets, cigarette butts, beer cans and ripped condom wrappers are mixed in with the shoe prints and sodden humus.

Johnny unfolds the waterproof canvas, kicking out at the crumpled edges so it lies more or less flat. He drops his bag on the canvas and lowers himself slowly down, still feeling raw from his outburst earlier. He wants a cigarette and a stiff drink or three.

There is a warbler calling above him, but other than that it is quiet. The churn of the industrial potato sorter sounds very far away.

Gheorghe sets the bag down, carefully pulling out a plastic container, two spoons and a half-empty plastic loaf bag of sliced white bread. 

They sit down with the food between them.

"This is meatball soup. My friend made it."

"That friend you were talking to?" Johnny replies, obscurely jealous.

"Yes, we are good friends," Gheorghe says, looking at him with that horrible soft knowingness. “I am his daughter's godfather.”

Johnny busies himself with opening up the bread bag, cramming a slice of bread in his mouth whole. He hasn't eaten since breakfast yesterday, and his belly is a wolf, howling to be fed.

He takes the spoon proffered to him, and dips it with only the slightest hesitation into the thin, tomato-coloured broth, fishing out a meatball and popping it into his mouth. It’s good. Pork, rice, onions and spices, lukewarm but delicious all the same.

He takes another, dribbling soup onto the canvas.

Gheorghe smiles and dips his own spoon in. 

They eat up the soup and bread quickly, Johnny with an avidity he restrains only because it is obvious this is Gheorghe's dinner that they’re sharing.

After they are done eating Gheorghe lights a cigarette they share while sitting side by side, their shoes sticking out past the edge of the canvas. As Johnny breathes out the last puff of smoke, flicking the cigarette butt into the undergrowth, Gheorghe says "I have to go back soon or my employers will ask questions. I will come back again in two hours?"

Johnny nods, a slight jerk of his head. Without looking, he edges his hand sideways until his pinky finger is touching, then covering Gheorghe’s.

Gheorghe looks down at their hands, at that single point of contact. Johnny keeps looking ahead, just the faintest flush on his cheeks.

Gheorghe quietly says, “crazy...”

Johnny is about to ask who or what is crazy when Gheorghe turns over to kiss him, a diving press of lips and tongue. Johnny’s pushed back, one hand braced against the ground, the other gripping Gheorghe's shoulder. His hips are bracketed by Gheorghe’s knees, his face by Gheorghe’s hands. 

Eventually, Johnny pulls away. "Stand up." His voice is a croak.

Gheorghe looks at him and slowly complies.

Johnny follows, crowding, walking him back until Gheorghe's back bumps against a tree trunk. 

They are on each other like teenagers, frantic and clumsy, Johnny fumbling at Gheorghe’s coveralls, yanking and snagging fabric in the zipper. They finally manage to get the coveralls unstuck and off Gheorghe's shoulders, Johnny pulling it down past his hips to tangle in a heap around Gheorghe’s knees. Gheorghe makes to reciprocate, but Johnny stops him with a shake of his head, taking hold of both his hands and giving them a quelling squeeze. 

He reaches under layers of clothing to Gheorghe's belt, undoing the buckle and pulling the end tip out of the frame before he starts on the buttons of his jeans, the sound of each loosening stud the ring of a pavlovian bell.

Johnny gets down on his knees. Mouth opening, seeking absolution for the sins he cannot put into words. 

He pants warm humid air over the tent in Gheorghe’s briefs, nuzzling at the strongly outlined cock in front of him before he carefully gets the elastic fabric down and out of the way, finally getting his lips around the crown of Gheorghe’s cock, tonguing the evidence of Gheorghe’s desire for him. 

Gheorghe makes a soft noise and twitches when Johnny runs the tip of his tongue along the slit, tasting.

Johnny has to stop to push away Gheorghe's shirt and hoodie, bunching a wad of fabric with his fist, pinning it against Gheorghe's sternum. This leaves his left hand free to circle the base of Gheorghe's cock, which he pumps gently, gentler than he usually does it, wanting to draw it out a little longer, to feel the pleasure building in Gheorghe's body with his hands and mouth.

Johnny stops, pulling off with a wet pop, rocking back on his heels drawing a groan from Gheorghe as he misses the warm wet tightness.

His face and neck are flushed, underpants, jeans and coveralls at his knees, shirt and hoodie slipping back down over his erection, dishevelled and gorgeous.

Gheorghe smiles down at him. "Do you want to switch?"

He shakes his head. "Take your top off."

Gheorghe unzips his hoodie, pulls his t-shirt off, wadding both into a heap and tossing it aside. 

Johnny gets back into it, rapidly drawing Gheorghe back into full hardness, taking shallow, sipping breaths as the crown of Gheorghe's cock bumps repeatedly against his soft palate.

Johnny cups his right hand around Gheorghe's hip, feeling the shivering that signals that he's close, stroking down his thigh. The ache in his jaw is becoming a cramp, and he's drooling a mix of pre-come and saliva all down his chin and into Gheorghe's groin.

Gheorghe warns him, a low bitten-off call of "John!"

Johnny hums his permission, bobbing his head down to take Gheorghe's cock deeper into himself, flattening his tongue against the shaft.

As he comes into the back of Johnny’s throat, Gheorghe puts his hands on the back of Johnny’s head and holds him, his hands calloused and warm.

Eventually, Johnny lets Gheorghe slip out, wiping his mouth roughly with the back of his hand.

Gheorghe pulls him up by an elbow, Johnny's legs unsteady from kneeling. This time he doesn't object when Gheorghe unzips his fly and reaches to jack him off.

"Your lip is bleeding," Gheorghe says, thumbing Johnny's right oral commissure with his other hand, fingers splayed across his cheeks. Johnny's lips are swollen and chapped and have cracked at the corner of his mouth.

Whatever he's thinking of replying is washed away by the striving rush of orgasm, his entire body coming alight in Gheorghe's hands.

Johnny reaches out blindly, grabbing Gheorghe's shoulder, holding on as he finishes onto damp spring earth, Gheorghe's hand slowing around him.

******

Afterwards, Johnny hitches his pants up, watching as Gheorghe dresses. There are bits of oak bark in his hair.

Gheorghe gives him a quarter-smile, coming close and drawing the back of his right hand down the jacket sleeve of Johnny's left arm before turning to leave.

“See you later,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> OK, I am so sorry I fell off after Grant. I am procrastinating writing the next part because it sucks.
> 
> The soup is ciorbă de perisoare


End file.
